The Visit
by Medie
Summary: Malcolm meets up with Heather Grayson on Risa. (2D2N Ep AU) Sequel to The Letter & The Reply
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Visit  
Author: M. Edison   
Archive: Please ask first.   
Season: Season1 Enterprise. AU for 2 Days & 2 Nights.   
Rating: PG   
Spoilers: Season1ish  
Keywords: AU, Malcolm, Risa, Vulcan. OC  
Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are the property of Paramount/Viacom, etc.   
Summary: On Risa, Malcolm runs into a familiar face.  
3rd in the Heather series. Stories 1 (The Letter) and 2 (The Reply) can be found on the Trek page of my section of  
Triple Threat.  
  
Author's Note: This story was an attempt to reconcile Enterprise Vulcans with TOS/TNG/Voy Vulcans...interesting work.  
Some of the research comes from novels like 'Spock's World' which, I think, the Enterprise writers should consider   
their 'idiot's guide to Vulcan'. Yeesh  
"The Visit"   
by M.  
*****  
  
He was having breakfast when he saw her: Sitting at another table, her back was to him, causing a familiar old ache to  
rise in his throat. With her hair cut in that style, and if he hadn't known where his friend was, he would have sworn   
it was Heather Grayson.  
  
But it couldn't be. Heather's work kept her very busy and, according to her letter, she only left Vulcan when she   
accompanied the Ambassador on diplomatic trips. It couldn't be her, he told himself with a brisk shake of his head, and  
returned his attention to the nearly decadent meal before him. The Risan people certainly knew how to take care of their  
guests, as he'd never eaten so well in his life – the food was positively delicious.   
  
"Malcolm?"  
  
The fork froze halfway to his mouth and so did he. It was impossible. There was no way he'd just heard Heather's voice.   
Setting down the fork, he straightened up and turned slowly to find her standing there, smiling at him. "Heather?" An   
answering smile on his own face, the Englishman pushed quickly to his feet and immediately pulled her into a warm hug.   
  
They lingered that way for several minutes before she pulled back, beaming up at him, her smile a feast for his eyes.   
"Surprise!"  
  
He started to repeat her then opted to skip right to the inevitable, "How did you know? I mentioned it in my letter but  
I didn't think that it had made it to Vulcan yet."  
  
"It hasn't." She answered as he pulled out a chair for her. "I found out on my own via the Ambassador's resources. I made  
a few discreet inquiries and got my answer." Subtle amusement lit her eyes. "I'm sure somewhere in Starfleet, someone is  
wondering what on Earth would have Selish asking about Enterprise's whereabouts."  
  
Seating himself, Malcolm didn't bother to suppress his smile. "Someone most certainly is. To what do I owe the honor of   
your visit?"  
  
Heather smiled. "I missed you. Trading letters reminded me of that and Selish has been telling me I needed a vacation.   
Finding out you were headed for Risa made it the perfect opportunity. He had me booked on the first transport leaving for  
here."  
  
"Your Ambassador's been after you to take a vacation, Sub-commander T'Pol's been telling us we needed shore leave...Why   
is it the Vulcans are so dead set on us relaxing while acting as if they're above it all themselves?" He watched his old   
friend's smile turn to one of bemusement. "By that smile, I suppose, you've an answer for me?"  
  
She glanced up at an approaching waiter, pausing to order and nod politely, before turning her gaze back to Malcolm.   
"Vulcans find the idea of expending energy in order to rest quite illogical. If a Vulcan wishes to rest, they *rest*. By   
sleeping, meditating, or otherwise just conserving their energy. Truthfully," she shrugged lightly. "the majority of   
Vulcans don't see the need to take a vacation. Their daily meditations take care of relieving stress for them. They don't  
build it up in the same way humans do." She blushed, noticing the amused expression Malcolm wore. "Sorry, when I get to   
talking about Vulcans I tend to ramble."  
  
"Really?" He deadpanned. "I hadn't noticed."  
  
"Sure you did." she countered gamely. "But, as always, you're too much of a gentleman to say anything."  
  
"That, or I've just missed having an actual face-to-face conversation with you instead of trading letters back and forth,"  
he teased, drawing another light blush from her.  
  
"Flatterer," Heather accused, smiling nevertheless. "So, I hear you had a bit of an adventure lately?"  
  
"Just one?" Malcolm murmured under his breath with a near chuckle. "Which one would you be referring to?"  
  
"Enterprise saved Ambassador V'Lar's life! It's the big subject of conversation on Vulcan these days. *Especially* in the   
political and diplomatic circles. Humans risking their lives to save a Vulcan?" She smiled, leaning back to allow the   
waiter to place her breakfast and something that resembled tea, before her. "That's impressed a few people, believe me.   
Selish mentioned the High Council has been discussing it quite favorably. After the P'Jem debacle, this was exactly what   
was needed – it's smoothing some ruffled feathers quite nicely."  
  
Cautiously, he met her gaze. Living on Vulcan meant Heather had literally been forced to deal with fallout from P'Jem on   
her own, without the benefit of Starfleet Admirals to back her up. "Debacle?"  
  
She sighed, setting down her drink. "I'm sorry, Malcolm, I probably shouldn't have even mentioned it, but you can't imagine  
the kind of reaction that engendered on Vulcan."  
  
"Anger?"  
  
"Not that they'll admit or show any signs of. What I have seen is shock, disappointment, grief...among the religious   
community...horror." Heather picked at her breakfast. "Logically, they know the Andorians made the decision to destroy the  
sanctuary but some of the responsibility they believe, and in truth so do I, lies with your captain."  
  
"You mean the blame," he said automatically.  
  
"No, I mean *responsibility*," his friend responded firmly. "If I truly meant blame then I would say so. Any Vulcan that   
would stoop to an emotion as ugly as blame isn't much of a Vulcan, and any of them will say so quite honestly." She   
smiled. "Cthia demands honesty, with oneself and with the world about you."  
  
"Cthia?"  
  
"The way of Truth or the Path of Logic," Heather elaborated. "It can be used to refer to the guidelines set down by Surak  
millennia ago that govern Vulcan society. I can't speak for Ambassador Soval," her eyes narrowed slightly, a sure sign of  
her displeasure with the subject, "but the majority of Vulcans do not 'blame' Captain Archer. They do, however, believe he  
is in part responsible for the sanctuary's destruction. To accept that truth would be the most honorable choice he can   
make at this point."  
  
"Honorable?"   
  
She nodded. "It can't be undone, thus the only logical choice is to accept his measure of responsibility, apologize, and   
move on."  
  
"Logical? Heather, you sound more like one of them," he pointed out, stealing a slice of a pineapple-like fruit off her   
plate.  
  
She smacked at his hand and retaliated by stealing a slice of fruit from his. "I suppose I do." She grinned. "When in   
Rome...I'm so used to talking with Vulcans I'm afraid I'm a little out of practice in talking with humans." Holding out   
her glass mug, she waited for him to take it. "Try this."  
  
Warily, he eyed the liquid, remembering the times she'd 'surprised' him in the past. "What is it?"  
  
"Saya." Seeing he wasn't about to let her get away with just that, she relented and elaborated. "It's a Vulcan drink, sort  
of like tea. Try it! I promise you won't go blind."  
  
"Very funny." Malcolm groused lightly.  
  
Heather's warm gaze turned impish and she held the drink against his mouth. "Please..."  
  
Acquiescing, he opened his mouth and allowed the warm liquid to spill across his lips. To his surprise, there was quite a   
pleasant taste to saya, something he hadn't expected.  
  
"I know," she murmured, amused, pulling the mug back to take a sip herself. "It probably would shock some people if they   
know Vulcans like their food to taste pleasant. I don't doubt it would stupefy them to know Vulcans believe beauty, or in   
this case taste, and function aren't the anthesis of each other, that they believe the opposite: Beauty, or the evocation   
of pleasure, usually makes it more effective."  
  
He smiled at her unspoken plea for understanding. Vulcan had taught her a great deal about subtlety. "I do believe,   
Heather, that place has stolen your heart."  
  
She beamed at him. "It has. If everyone on Earth could get to know these people the way I have..."  
  
"And vice versa...." he agreed.  
  
"If Selish has his way, and he may yet, that might happen. He wants the Vulcan compound on Earth closed down and the   
residents to find their own accommodations among the human population – and not congregate together. He believes it is   
illogical to judge the maturity of a society with the insufficient data they have gathered through observation. He's   
adamant that data won't be complete until Vulcans have experienced Earth for themselves."  
  
"I think I would like your Ambassador."  
  
Heather's smile was impish. "Oh I think you would. He certainly likes you all after hearing his wife's stories."  
  
"His wife?"  
  
"Ambassador V'Lar."  
  
Malcolm shook his head.   
  
He should have known.  
  
-----  
That afternoon found the two old friends planning to spend time on the beach outside the house Heather was staying in.   
  
Walking up to the building in question, Malcolm found himself wondering what the Vulcans were paying her that she could   
afford to stay in such lavish settings. He definitely planned on inquiring, if only to tease her, but any thoughts of that  
nature flew right out of his head when the door slid open to reveal her waiting for him, already in her swimwear.  
  
It was his opinion that Vulcan had been very kind to Heather Grayson's physique. She'd never been unattractive but it   
struck him that a few years of living in the harsh climate of Vulcan had burned away all nonessentials, leaving the purest  
essence behind. She was beautiful.  
  
What shocked him out of his own admiration was the openly appreciative way that Heather's gaze swept over him. "You look   
fantastic," she said without guile, stepping back to let him enter while tying a translucent cover-up about her hips.  
  
"I was thinking the same of you," he confessed softly, adding quickly. "Lovely accommodations you have. Much better than   
the hotel..."  
  
"It belongs to Selish." She answered his unspoken question as she moved to stand next to him, her honey blonde hair   
brushing his shoulder. "He and V'Lar come here sometimes. They believe time away from Vulcan and their own professional   
personas is good for the soul."  
  
"Vulcans spending time on Risa?" Malcolm grinned. "Captain Sopek would be scandalized."  
  
Heather poured two glasses of iced tea and handed one to him with a light snort. "Let him be. I'll tell you a secret,   
Malcolm, there's a reason he's the senior official in the Coridan region."  
  
"And that is?" he asked loftily, picking up on the amused undertone.  
  
"It means he's not a mid-level official on *Vulcan* and they don't have to deal with him. The man's logic can...be clouded  
at times by his ego." With a laugh, she led him out onto the patio, her gaze on the horizon. "God, it's gorgeous here. I'd  
almost forgotten what an ocean smells like." Closing her eyes, she inhaled lightly. "It will be hard to leave this place."  
  
"Don't spend much time near them on Vulcan I take it."  
  
"Vulcan doesn't have oceans, per se. It has a few small seas which remind me of the Mediterranean but nothing that can be   
termed an 'ocean'. There are times I miss the Pacific so much it's a near-physical ache." She looked over at him. "What   
about you? Ten months in space..."  
  
"What of it?" She slanted a glance at him that reminded him eerily of T'Pol and he chuckled. "Yes, I miss Earth. I love   
being out here but..."  
  
"Sometimes..." She nodded. "I know." After a moment, she bit her lower lip slightly and ventured, "When was the last time  
you..."  
  
"Long enough."   
  
"Malcolm..."  
  
"Heather," Turning, he reached out to take her hand in his. "It's been too long and we've too little time to worry about   
the dysfunctions ingrained in the Reed family dynamic."  
  
She opened her mouth to argue but his mutely pleading eyes quickly had her relenting. "I never could say no to that look."  
  
He grinned. "Why do you think I use it?"  
  
She made a disgusted noise at the back of her throat and shook her head at him. "Incorrigible." Abruptly, she hugged him   
again. "God, it's good to see you."  
  
"It's good to see you too," he responded, holding her close, the light scent of her perfume filling his awareness.  
  
----  
  
"Mmmmm..." Heather's pleased moan filtered up through her folded arms and Malcolm chuckled. "Where did you learn this?"  
  
"You'd be surprised what you pick up after Starfleet's high-endurance training," he said innocently, his hands working the  
sun block into her sun-warmed skin.  
  
She snickered. "You're forgetting who you're talking to, Malcolm Reed, I know better than that. Which girlfriend, and I   
use the term loosely, did you pick this up from?"  
  
"Her name was April and we dated for quite a while, I'll have you know. She was a lovely girl and a massage therapist,"   
he defended with a grin as she peered back at him with a skeptical look.   
  
"Well, whatever she was, I'm going to look her up and send her a thank you note," she informed him lightly. "I haven't   
felt this relaxed in *months*."  
  
"Happy to oblige," he responded, exaggerating his accent.  
  
"Oh God, you've been watching Bond movies again." She mock-groaned. "Remind me to ask Captain Archer to ban you from   
those."  
  
"I rather enjoy those movies," Malcolm said. "They're very entertaining."  
  
"Mmmhmm...I wonder why you like them so much? Oh yes, now I remember, an Englishman running about with guns, shooting   
anything that moves, causing big explosions and romancing any and every beautiful woman he finds...Malcolm Reed's dream   
life," she teased sarcastically, coaxing a laugh from her friend.   
  
"They're amusing, I will grant you that," he replied. "But I rather think the explosions I'm capable of creating with   
Enterprise's weapons are a slightly more impressive than anything 007 ever managed in his illustrious career."  
  
"Ahh..but what about the women?" Heather asked archly, sighing happily as his hands slid along her shoulders.   
  
"None of them even compare to my present company."  
  
She smiled. "Malcolm, you are – without a doubt – the most charming man I have ever known."   
  
"Heather, you are -without a doubt - the most impressive woman I have ever known."  
  
"Liar." She smiled back at him. "But I appreciate the sentiment." Sitting up, she tied the top in place once more, then  
turned to face him. "So, feel like a swim?"   
  
He returned the smile, throughly enamored of the idea of spending any amount of time near her in that deliciously   
revealing suit, especially if it would be wet at the time. "Most definitely."  
  
TBC 


	2. Part 2

The Visit Part 2  
"You know, I could get used to drinking this." Holding up his mug of saya, Malcolm smiled at Heather, who was curled up on  
the deck chair next to him. "It's perfect for nights like this."  
  
"That's one reason they came up with the stuff, I think," she replied, leaning her head against the cushion. "Nights on   
Vulcan can get quite chilly when they want to. It's like living in a more extreme version of the Arizona desert." Reaching  
for her own mug, she added, "So how are the others? I remember you mentioning Hoshi was having a bit of trouble settling   
in."  
  
"She's been doing incredibly well. Frankly, considering the things she's accomplished, I'm surprised Starfleet hasn't   
promoted her yet. She's saved our lives, and the ship, a number of times and the Captain has demonstrated an incredible  
amount of faith in her – which is not misplaced I can assure you – and she never ceases to amaze us."  
  
"You sound like you're starting a fanclub," Heather teased lightly. "But it sounds like she's come quite a long way, which  
is wonderful."  
  
"It is," Malcolm said with a nod and a smile. "And believe me, with all she's accomplished aboard ship, she certainly has   
earned it." He noticed the smile spreading across his friend's face and had to ask. "What?"  
  
She looked innocent. "Nothing...It's just good to hear you talking like this. They've had quite the affect on you, hmm?   
The rest of the crew?"   
  
"They have." His smile widened. "I can't imagine being out here with anyone else. Wouldn't be nearly as entertaining for   
one."  
  
Heather started to laugh. "Only you, Malcolm Reed, would consider being regularly shot at, nearly asphyxiated, and chased  
across half a sector by criminal aliens to be 'fun'."   
  
He grinned sheepishly. "I am an armory officer, Heather."  
  
"Who has an unhealthy interest in risking his neck," she countered merrily, leaning across to kiss his cheek. "Just make   
sure that neck stays in one very attractive piece, okay? I'd miss you too much if you got yourself killed."  
  
"And who says I would get myself killed?" He forced his tone to be light, maintaining the playful atmosphere between them.  
When Heather was that close, it was very hard to remember they were 'just friends'. "How do you know it won't be the result  
of Commander Tucker's quite regular habit of landing himself in the midst of trouble? To say nothing of the captain..."  
  
"Simple." She interrupted with an impish grin. "No matter what the option chosen to rescue said trouble magnets, you'd be   
insistent on leading the charge. It's an endearing, if not worrisome, trait you have."   
  
"Endearing, hmm?"  
  
"Oh yes, very." She nodded. "Add to that the English accent and you're a regular white knight out to save the damsel, or   
commanding officer in this case, in distress."  
  
Malcolm chuckled softly. "Heather Grayson, you are a romantic."   
  
"Guilty," she admitted with a smile, leaning back in her chair. "And with such material to work with, how can I resist?"  
  
"For a woman who spends her time among Vulcans, you've very little self-discipline," he teased, settling back to look up   
at the stars.  
  
"Bah, among the Vulcans it's easy to be disciplined. You just go with the flow." She waved a casual hand. "Here, I can let  
loose. No one to raise a brow at me if I do."  
  
"Raise a brow?"   
  
She grinned. "Oh come on, don't tell me T'Pol hasn't done that. You do something she terms 'illogical'' or 'frivolous' and  
that eyebrow pops up like a red flag. It's a Vulcan trait, I think. I've seen more than one do it. I've made it my life's   
mission, actually, to see how far I can send T'Theilah's. I swear I managed to her hairline once."   
  
He shook his head. "And you tell me *I'm* incorrigible. You keep that up and the Vulcans will be sure we're all insane."  
  
Heather giggled softly. "No, that's one thing they're sure we're not. Besides, that eyebrow? That's the best barometer for  
a Vulcan's mood. Depending on the context, they're either very annoyed with you or laughing hysterically...on the inside.   
Vulcan dignity simply does not allow for a good belly laugh."  
  
Trying to picture the Sub-commander helpless with laughter, Malcolm had to agree. "I can understand that. Very hard to be   
logical and in control when one is rolling on the floor laughing."  
  
"Does tend to make it difficult..." she affirmed with a grin.  
  
"But you have to admit...it would be fun to see."  
  
"So it would." She nodded. "But then, Vulcans don't laugh to express humor, I don't know that they can actually. If they   
do, it's over my head."   
  
"As are many facts about the Vulcans, I don't doubt," Malcolm murmured, thinking of the Vulcans he'd met thus far. He was  
pulled from his musings by the sensation of being watched. Looking over, he found Heather regarding him with a raised,   
very Vulcan-like, eyebrow. He got the sensation he'd done something or said something wrong so, carefully, he reviewed his  
earlier words and comprehension set in. "Wait a moment...I didn't mean *that* way!"  
  
Heather giggled, shaking her head at his stammered attempt to make up for his misstep. He watched her laugh, secretly   
pleased the desertion of his usual compsure amused her so. "I know what you meant." She reassured finally, her eyes   
dancing with mirth. "But it was so funny watching you backtrack." She grinned. "Adorable really."  
  
Malcolm relaxed, then echoed her grin. "Adorable? Impossible."   
  
"Hmm?" Seeing the mischievous glint in his eyes, Heather waited with a laugh playing about her lips for the laugh she knew  
was coming.  
  
"I am an Armory officer," he said with the most solemn expression possible. "Armory officers are *not* adorable. We are   
fierce, dedicated and, if needs be, ruthless but never, ever adorable."  
  
Laughing, she leaned over again to touch his cheek. "I'm afraid I must disagree because you, Lieutenant Malcolm Reed, are  
absolutely adorable. Cheer up, though," her smile turned wicked. "women like adorable. We like it a *lot*."  
  
"Thank you for that reassurance," he said with a chuckle, capturing her hand between his and kissing it lightly. "You've   
no idea how good it is to see you again, Heather."  
  
"Yes, I do," she answered with a soft smile. "Because I know exactly how good it feels to see you again."   
  
By mutual decision, they embraced again for a long moment before settling back on their respective deck chairs.   
  
"I'd forgotten how good it feels to be hugged," Heather noted simply, her gaze on the stars. He looked at her   
questioningly and she smiled wryly. "I'm sure you noticed Vulcans aren't big on personal contact? That includes hugs."   
  
He reached out to take her hand in his, holding it loosely. "Culture shock?"  
  
"Big time." She nodded with a smile. "I was no rookie when I went to Vulcan, Malcolm, but I still felt the difference in   
a big way. Their culture is fascinating and amazing but very, very alien." She smiled wryly. "Surprise, surprise, hmm?" A  
sigh punctuated her words as she continued. "The lack of touch was the worst. I adjusted to everything else but touch is   
an instinctive part of human contact and it's so *not* for the Vulcans. They don't casually touch. Everything has a   
purpose and a place." Turning to face him, she held up their hands. "For example, Vulcan spouses? They don't hold hands   
like this. Instead," she rearranged their hands so the only contact was between their first two fingers. "They do that."   
  
"Just that?" He eyed the two fingers skeptically.   
  
She nodded. "Just that. T'Theilah confided to me once that there is a whole layer to that contact we can't see which   
makes it beyond anything humans can comprehend and..."  
  
"You believe her?"  
  
"Yes, I believe her." Heather smiled. "Vulcan has this unwritten law that they call the 'Rule of Silences'. Things they   
just don't, and won't, talk about, with themselves or with 'outworlders', and what goes on between spouses falls under   
that, I think. She confided some things but wouldn't elaborate on any of it. It's their way."  
  
"Their way." Malcolm shook his head. "I"m beginning to think their way is completely incomprehensible."  
  
She laughed suddenly, earning a confused look from her friend. "Sorry...It's just...T'Theilah once said something similar  
to me. Humanity confounds and confuses her more often than any other species she's encountered thus far. The fun of it   
all, though? She likes it."  
  
"To be confused and confounded?" He chuckled, letting Heather's hand fall away into her lap. "She sounds like a most...  
intriguing woman."  
  
"She is." She nodded. "She is. The truth of it is, Vulcans love a good puzzle. They can't resist. They have an underlying  
urge to understand everything. They're literally a race of scholars and scientists on some level and they love to be   
fascinated by something. Though," she said with a grin. "They'll never admit to that."  
  
"It's their way," he replied, repeating her earlier words back to her.  
  
Heather laughed. "It's their way."  
  
-----------  
  
The next morning brought them both reluctantly awake, lying where they'd fallen asleep on their deckchairs, facing each   
other. Sharing a sheepish smile, they stretched languidly and Heather reluctantly broke the spell that hung about them   
with a simple question. "When do you leave?"  
  
Malcolm chanced a glance at the chronometer on the wall and sighed. "Sooner than I want to."  
  
She smiled at the rueful answer. "Buy you breakfast?"  
  
"What? No personal service here?" He raised his eyebrows in mock disbelief.   
  
She laughed, finding the cushion behind her and hitting him with it. "I'm on vacation, Mister, I don't do cooking when   
I'm on vacation." An impish look accompanied her next phrase. "Besides, I didn't stock the shelves when I arrived."  
  
"Ahhh...So it's go out, or starve?"  
  
"That would be it, yes," she agreed with a sage nod.   
  
"Ah well then, we'd best change." He gestured at their respective swimwear and she followed the movement.   
  
"I see your point."   
  
"Thought you might." His satisfied expression earned him another hit by the cushion. "Keep that up, Ms. Grayson, and I'll  
be forced to subdue you."  
  
Heather grinned. "Love to see you try."   
  
"Is that a challenge?" He asked archly as they both moved to their feet.  
  
Seeing the devilment lurking in his gaze, she held up her hands. "Malcolm...Don't you dare."  
  
"Dare?" he countered innocently. "What don't I dare?"  
  
"Malcolm..." she warned him off, backing toward the sand.   
  
"Yes, Heather?"   
  
"Don't you..." She never finished her sentence as he suddenly lunged for her. Shrieking with laughter, the slender blonde  
took off at a run down the beach but didn't get far before he caught her up in his arms. She struggled but couldn't break  
the Armory officer's embrace, not that she especially tried until, that is, she realized where they were headed.   
"Malcolm!!!!'  
  
"Hmm?" Reaching the water's edge, he kept walking despite her struggling in earnest.   
  
"Don't even *think* of throwing me in the ocean!" she ordered, her tone considerably less commanding than the officers he  
dealt with on a daily basis.   
  
"Think?" he echoed, a wicked grin touching his face. "Of course not. I never think about throwing you into anything...  
Dropping however? Dropping I do think of."  
  
Heather's protest was drowned out by the sound of the splash when she connected with the water. Surfacing, she directed   
a mock-glare up at him. "Malcolm?"  
  
"Yes?"   
  
She held up a hand. "Help?"  
  
By the time he realized what she was planning, he'd already stretched out his hand and it was too late to take it back.   
Quick as a wink, Heather's hand closed around his and she fell backwards, the momentum of her body enough to pull him off   
balance.  
  
With a yell, Malcolm tumbled forward, landing in the water next to her.  
  
When he surfaced, he was met by her evil grin. "I told you...I'd love to see you try," she teased lightly, flicking the   
water in his direction.   
  
He smiled. "And?"  
  
Heather's eyes held a delighted sparkle. "You never disappoint, Malcolm. You never disappoint."  
  
-------  
  
"Time to go?" Closing her book, Heather watched Malcolm emerge from the bathroom of his hotel room, carrying a shaving kit  
in hand.   
  
"The pod'll be leaving for the ship soon." He answered indirectly, doing his best to ignore the fact their time together   
was running out.   
  
His friend put her book aside and stood. "Duty calls."   
  
"Of that," he replied dryly, "I am well aware." Sighing, he turned to face her. "When I got here, I was planning on..."  
  
"A little mindless skirt chasing?"   
  
"Well...yes. But just losing myself for a couple of days then going back aboard ship relaxed and rested..." He smiled.   
"Then you showed up."  
  
"And a little time with an old friend isn't nearly enough," Heather finished. "I know." She smiled. "I've been trying to   
come up with a way to get Selish to convince Starfleet to extend your leave here." A soft laugh escaped her. "Can you   
imagine me trying to explain the logic in that?"  
  
An image of Heather doing exactly that played out in Malcolm's mind and he chuckled. "I suspect you'd have him positively  
confounded by the end of it."  
  
"I don't doubt that," she agreed with a chuckle, sitting on the end of the bed and handing him a shirt. "Tell you what,   
you can surprise me next time." She tilted her head slightly, her hair spilling onto her shoulder. "We'll make sure to   
keep each other apprized of any and all vacation schedules...that should make it easy." She shrugged. "Unless a war breaks  
out or something...at which point, Selish may have to mediate." A grin touched her features. "Hey, that works. We could   
get kidnapped and Enterprise can come to our rescue!"  
  
He tapped the tip of her nose lightly with one finger. "Don't even suggest that one, Heather. With your luck, that's   
exactly what will happen."  
  
"Give the Andorians time..." she countered with a shrug. "I wouldn't be surprised." At his look, she added, "They've   
been saber rattling again. Selish may be called to handle it since V'Lar's in protective custody on Vulcan."  
  
"They're taking no chances?"  
  
"Not until she testifies, no. And returning to Mazar afterwards? That's out. There's no telling who may be waiting for   
her there." Resting back on her elbows, Heather kicked her sandals off and watched Malcolm move about the room. "So who   
knows what may happen. The Andorians usually back off. They don't have the allies the Vulcans do and no one with enough   
political power to challenge the Vulcans will side with them. As far as allies go...they're rather untrustworthy."   
  
"The paranoia?" He glanced over at her as he added another shirt to the bag. "Excitability?"  
  
"That too. The Andorians may be accusing the Vulcans of playing fast and loose with the treaty," she smirked. "But   
they're no angels in all this either. Those commandos? Some in the government support them and their 'war' against Vulcan.  
But that's all moot until something happens anyway which it never well."  
  
"You don't think so? The Andorians I met seemed hell bent on conflict." Standing next to her, he frowned in remembrance.  
  
"They talk big but the Vulcans have better resources and handle war better." Heather shrugged. "The Andorians have a hard   
time with long term conflict. Too emotional, they've a hard time keeping the anger out of it." She waved a hand to push   
off the conversation. "But stop that. You've got me talking shop and the vacation technically isn't over yet."  
  
"Technically," Malcolm countered.  
  
"Well, most things in life are technical." She grinned. "As you can probably attest to."  
  
"Probably? I can indeed attest to it." He chuckled. "But I do like the idea of keeping an eye on our respective leave   
schedules. Know of any other pleasure planets?"   
  
"Tons. Caspiria Prime is beautiful. Not the same reputation as Risa...more highbrow and less...touristy." Her smile   
widened. "And much better beaches."  
  
"All the better to throw you in the ocean from, my dear," he teased.  
  
The chirp of his communicator interrupted their banter and, ruefully, Malcolm answered. Listening to the pilot of the   
shuttlepod speak, he looked at the woman beside him with an apologetic expression. "Time to go."  
  
She sighed and, reluctantly, stood. Slipping into her shoes again, she zipped up his small duffel and handed it to him  
as he closed the communicator once more. Kissing his cheek, she smiled sadly. "Be safe...okay?"  
  
His smile was a mirror of hers. "Okay. And the same of you? Keep an eye on those Andorians."   
  
She nodded mutely, falling into step with him as he left the room and went down through the hotel.   
  
"When does your transport leave for Vulcan?"   
  
"Tonight."   
  
Neither one really paid much attention to their conversation as they moved along, but it kept the silence from stretching  
too deep between them until, finally, they stopped at the beach house.  
  
"My stop," she noted with the same sad smile.   
  
"So it is," he responded.  
  
Abruptly, she hugged him fiercely. "Be careful!"  
  
"I always am," Malcolm assured, knowing neither one of them bought that one. Stepping back, he touched her cheek. "See   
you next time?"  
  
"Next time," she said with a shaky smile and a nod.   
  
They shared another hug before he continued on, heading for the pod's landing site, while she watched him go.  
  
------  
  
"So, Malcolm..." Trip eyed him with amusement from across the shuttle. "Where'd you disappear to? Never saw you after   
the other night..." He grinned teasingly. "Did you meet somebody..."  
  
"You might say that," the Armory officer replied with the smile. "You might say that."  
  
Trip's grin widened, while, next to him, Hoshi's eyes grew curious. Malcolm didn't look like a man fresh from a   
meaningless affair...quite the opposite. He looked like a man who'd spent some time with someone who meant a lot. Hiding   
her smile, she glanced down at Porthos. It seemed as if the beagle was the only one who didn't have a secret to hide   
about his vacation and who knew? Those puppy dog eyes could be hiding a multitude of sins.   
  
The Communications officer barely held in a burst of laughter. 'Hoshi...you're developing a serious case of paranoia.   
Though...' her gaze drifted around the pod. 'Considering how much trouble present company can cause...paranoia might not  
be a bad thing.'  
  
Not at all...  
  
finis 


End file.
